


Gods at the dawning of the world

by neoncore



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Fluff, M/M, but only implied tho, i'm bad at tagging but it's good i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncore/pseuds/neoncore
Summary: Adjusting to the slow pace of Provence was a challenge at first, but they grew fond of it, eventually. And with time, they even settled into their own morning routine; Will would take a shower while Hannibal would prepare the meat, and then put it in the fridge to marinate.At least that's how it went most of the time.But, of course, there were exceptions.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 18





	Gods at the dawning of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this is my first fic about Hannibal (I just started s2 so please excuse any errors), but I hope you'll like it!
> 
> (the title is taken from The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller)

Blood. He could smell it's thick, metallic scent in the crisp, midnight air. Dark stains covering the cold ground looked like crimson seas of glistening stars. And there he stood, in the silver glow of the moonlight, looking like an angel of death: drenched in blood, his eyes fixed on the dark heavens above, his breaths ragged. Shadows of trees seemed to writhe around him; a pair of pitch-black wings stretching high up towards the sky.

Hannibal could admire Will for hours. Take in the sight of him, the sheer beauty of his unleashed rage. The raw fire of excitement burning in his eyes when he slaughtered his another victim. The fondness replacing the determination in his gaze when he turns his eyes back to Hannibal, a warm smile replacing his smirk.

He always looked at Hannibal that way, no matter where they were or what they were doing.

And by the time a faint glimmer of sunlight began to slip into the world from behind the horizon, and a blanket of thick, milk-like fog covered the road ahead, they were already on their way home. As they were driving through long-forgotten, unused roads, the woods were silent around them, interrupted only by the delicate birdsong and the roar of the engine. They didn't need to talk in these moments. For them, words were unnecessary to communicate. They always knew what the other was thinking. By the slightest flex of their muscles or the tiniest twitch of their mouths, their posture and the way of breathing. They were parts of each other.

They lived in a mansion in the outskirts of Marseille, right at the edge of the woods. Next to it lavender fields were stretching far and wide, painting the landscape in greens and violets. The city was looming somewhere in the distance, still asleep and too lazy to wake up with the sunrise. Maybe they'll go there later to buy some exquisite spices or expensive wines. Maybe they'll stay home, in the glorious cool of air conditioning. That was the beauty of the life they lead now. Adjusting to the slow pace of Provence was a challenge at first, but they grew fond of it, eventually. And with time, they even settled into their own morning routine; Will would take a shower while Hannibal would prepare the meat, and then put it in the fridge to marinate.

At least that's how it went most of the time.

But, of course, there were exceptions.

Like these times when Will would take a bath instead of a shower.

The ice cold water brought him instant relief as he laid back in the vintage tub. He didn't mind the red slowly tainting the crystal clear liquid. He got used to it, and after some time he even took a certain liking to it. He let his eyes flutter closed, listening to the birds chirping outside and the soft flush water in the tub when he moved. No cars passed by. They rarely did.

The calm euphony was interrupted by the barely audible sound of footsteps, ones he recognized right away.

"Did you come to join me, Hanni?" he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Not quite, Will." the doctor said somewhere behind him. A gentle clink of a glass being set on the tiled floor followed. Shortly after that, a pair of strong hands slipped into his hair and began massaging his head. Slowly, with care and expertise. He let out a soft sound, somewhat like a purr, and leaned in to the touch. A sharp scent of lavender sweetened by jasmine hit his nose.

"I never realized you were a fan of cold baths." Hannibal said. Will chuckled.

"I wasn't back in Virginia. Here, they're a blessing." he replied. A sigh left his lips. "I never realized you were a fan of these kind of scents."

"It may not be a classic combination, but I find it to be one of my favorites."

"Mhm?" he opened his eyes and turning his head to Hannibal. "What are your other favorites?"

"There are plenty," he started, taking the glass into his hand. He swirled the red wine inside, as he always did, and then sniffed it, looking Will in the eyes with a smile. "But the combination I love the most is the smell just you seem to have," he took a sip. "Mixed with blood."

At that, Will smiled.

They never paid attention to the time. Well, maybe except their hunts, where timing was essential. But other than that, their time flew with smiles and kisses, morning cups of coffee and evening glasses of wine. Their time consisted of small moments of pure bliss, sometimes mixing with flashes of adrenaline that came with killing. Their time was different than the time of everyone else.

After all, they were different. They were gods, in a way. Shaping the reality around them. Choosing who to kill and who to spare.

They were the gods of death.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading!


End file.
